


The Caged Bird's Battle Hymn

by wizardslexicon



Series: Standing Divided [5]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Haki, Rokushiki, Take My Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2860541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardslexicon/pseuds/wizardslexicon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every revolution needs a light, and every nation a guardian angel.<br/>Redux of Robin's Strawhat Separation arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Caged Bird's Battle Hymn

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to two tumblr users this time! Trafaldude and nonbinary-agentwash were both kind enough to read this and catch my many mistakes, and I really can't thank them enough for their kind words and their invaluable aid.

“So you see, Ms. Nico, we have extensive facilities at your disposal. Banned literature from all over the world, classified military documents, even some books rumored to only be held in the Great Library Tree, in addition to state-of-the-art personal trainers and exercise facilities...” The man continued, eagerly extolling all the benefits of life on Baltigo. Robin, a light coat thrown over her shoulders, surveyed it all impassively. It was interesting, of course, but as “the Light of the Revolution” she had a certain responsibility to herself to maintain the upper hand as an aloof visitor. It wouldn’t do for them to think she needed them more than they needed her.

“And when will I meet the elusive Dragon?” she asked, tapping her long fingers against her forearms, which were loosely folded over her stomach. “I have much I wish to speak about with him.” The revolutionary quickly saluted her, and Robin laughed gently behind a hand.

“Right away, Ms. Nico!” Robin was lead up staircase after staircase, to the highest room in Baltigo. It was filled with revolutionaries sitting by Transponder Snails, printing out information and making calls. Robin quickly surmised that the reason Dragon had taken over the half-ruined castle was for its prodigious height, which enabled the sending of clear signals all over the world to other bases of the Army.

The room opened on a balcony that overlooked a strip of bare land and then the sea, where several revolutionaries sat, stood, or leaned on the railing around one man, clearly separate from the others in both his stature and the slight leaning towards him that all those assembled seemed unable to prevent. He wore a long green cloak, the hood let down to show a long mass of thick, spiky black hair. Robin itched to give him a cut, thinking that his hair type wasn’t unlike Luffy’s, but restrained the urge and lowered her gaze to his face.

Dragon looked...intense. His full lips, set in a deep frown that cast his entire face into deep shadow, seemed dull and dusty. His skin, a fine brown, seemed rich and powerful in the sunlight, and stuck out starkly in combination with his dark green cloak. His eyes, large and deep-set, were sharp, befitting a man with the mind capable of challenging the World Government. His proud, statuesque nose brought his face together as a picture of power. Finally, a large series of red tattoos, in patterns simultaneous geometric and tribal, marked the left side of his face, an open challenge: here was a man unafraid to be recognized.

“Our leader,” said the revolutionary who had lead Robin to the balcony. “Monkey D Dragon.” Robin’s eyes widened, and Dragon’s did, too. Apparently that had been a piece of information he had been intending to withhold from her for the moment.

“Leave us,” he said, and the revolutionaries filed out, the last to leave closing the door behind him. “Robin, yes?” It was rhetorical, of course, but Robin nodded and extended her hand to shake. He grasped it firmly, pumped once, and released her, beckoning her to the balcony edge.

“The very same. I take it you wished to speak with me privately to discuss your son?” Robin smiled slyly. Dragon could be one of the Five Elder Stars, but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t a man alive unconcerned with the welfare of his firstborn.

“Of Luffy, and of other things,” Dragon admitted. “Namely, of the activities you will engage in while you remain at Baltigo.” Robin didn’t like the sound of that, but didn’t want to press the point so early in conversation and glossed over it.

“Luffy...well. If your father is anything to go by, excellence runs in the family! A Marine hero, the world’s most wanted man, and a pirate. Luffy is very clearly one of the pedigree.” Robin’s description was guarded, flattering. She was testing the waters. Dragon made an annoyed noise in his throat.

“Every journalist in the world knows the pedigree! It is nothing to me. If my son was any less than what he is, I’d be disappointed. I must admit I had hoped he would join me in my endeavors; however, it seems that fate did not have that in store for us...” Robin nodded, waiting on him to continue. “I decided to oppose the government after traveling the world, so I had thought to recruit Luffy to the Revolutionary Army once he was ready to enter the Grand Line. But, when he announced his ambition to become the King of the Pirates at Loguetown...” Dragon sighed. “I thought to myself, “A pirate? That’s fine, too.” And so I left him to grow on his own. What can you tell me of that growth?” Robin thought calmly.

“I saw little of his defeat of Crocodile, to be frank. I cannot tell you much beyond that he struggled to defeat him initially, and would have died without my assistance at that time. But I first saw the true power of Luffy, and of ‘D’, in a Sky Island called Skypeia. That is when I truly saw that Luffy is ‘God’s natural enemy’.” Dragon raised an eyebrow, turning from the view to look at Robin.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“The tyrant ruling Skypeia was given the traditional title of “God”, and came to believe it due to the excessive power of his Devil Fruit ability: it was Logia-type, allowing him to become lightning. Intangible, moving nearly instantaneously, and capable of extending his Observation Haki using electromagnetic impulse...a formidable opponent. But Luffy never feared his power, defeated him in the air and sent him away from the people of Skypeia and a nearby island, Shandoria.”

“Hm. His rubber body negated the lightning?” Robin nodded.

“Yes—and his will overcame the strength and arrogance of ‘God’. And then...well, you have no doubt heard of the incident at Enies Lobby.” Dragon laughed.

“And with pride! My son, destroying his first government facility...” It took Robin several seconds to realize Dragon had told a joke, and it was too late to laugh, but she filed it away for later use.

“He fought a man roughly the equivalent of four hundred normal soldiers almost to the point of death to save my life,” said Robin. “He declared war on the World Government...perhaps the second man in history to ever do so. Luffy is the man who’s going to be the Pirate King.” Her voice was firm, decided. Dragon smiled.

“That’s what I like to hear from my son’s comrades! Now, your mention of Cipher Pol 9 brings up something of interest to me.” Robin raised her eyebrows.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Your Devil Fruit—you understand, I collect many volumes of literature here, and the nature of your Devil Fruit is well known to me. You are able to sprout your body parts on any surface you are aware of, but all damage incurred by these parts is placed on your actual body. I am correct, so far?”

“Yes.”

“Then the solution is clear. No matter what function you actually perform on my son’s ship, any pirate must be able to defend themselves from damage, and the most effective way of combating your Fruit’s weakness is physical conditioning.” Dragon reached into his cloak and produced a large file. “Here are the personal profiles and specialties of all the fighters in the Army. Choose the ones you like, and take your time in deciding.” Robin looked down at the file. This didn’t feel like being ordered around, if felt like having her job made easier. She found herself enjoying it.

“I will send up my choices as soon as I make them. Shall you direct me to my rooms, then, Dragon?” Robin opened the door with a sprouted hand and allowed Dragon to walk through first. He chose a revolutionary at random, who lead Robin out of the room and away.

Robin sat with a small platter in her spacious rooms, waiting on her chosen instructors to arrive. She’d sent up her choices earlier, a mixture of pragmatism and interest in the teachers themselves. She wanted a range overall: people close to her age, and people older; people sharing her gender, and people outside it; power-type fighters, speed-type fighters, and free-form fighters. She’d eventually chosen three, each with their own benefits and purpose; it was these she was waiting for, and for whom she’d prepared the platter of tea and introductory snacks.

“You look like you’re going on a date, dumbass!” came a voice through the doorway. Robin found herself giggling. “What’s with that open-collared look? Here, let me fix it—”

“Yeargh, let me go! It’s fine, I always dress like this, let’s just—DON’T YOU...!” A loud crash shook the floor. Robin steadied the teapot and began writing in a small book as if she hadn’t noticed, and a knock shortly sounded throughout the room. Closing the book, Robin walked up to the door and opened it. Though pictures of her instructors had been included, she was surprised nonetheless at their appearances.

On the left stood a young man, slim of face and build, dressed in simple black slacks and a starched white shirt, which showed signs of being hastily buttoned closed. A noticeable burn scar puckered one side of his otherwise princely features, and he clearly was proud of it: rather than grow long bangs and part his wavy blond hair to obscure it, he left most of his face open and clear. Robin made a mental note to ask the young man where he’d obtained such a prodigious mark later.

The young woman on the right was about his height, perhaps a shade shorter, but much stouter of build. Robin could tell she was very exercise-oriented, as her tanned biceps alone would have matched up well with those of any of Robin’s crewmates. She wore a shirt similar to the man’s, with a bit more ruffle near the neck, and a skirt Robin immediately decided to try and steal.

“I’m Koala,” she said, “your new weight-lifting instructor!” The young man opened his mouth, but Koala swatted him with a hand. “And this scruffy lunkhead is Sabo. He’ll be teaching you...what was it, again? How not to dress?” Sabo groaned.

“The basics of Haki!” Sabo sighed. “May we come in, Ms. Nico?” Robin gave a little laughed and stepped aside, waving them towards the platter.

“Call me Robin, please. I’m not that old of a woman!” Robin poured them all tea and took a chair, watching their manners. Sabo, having a noble upbringing, crossed his legs and sipped carefully. Koala burned her tongue and ate several of Robin’s biscuits to recover, prompting a sharp rebuke from Sabo, but she flipped him the middle finger and spoke directly to Robin.

“Your third instructor is at the dojo,” she said, through a mouthful of biscuit. “He’s not a social fellow. But, listen, you need anything, call your friendly teachers Koala and Sabo! We carry a lot of weight around here.”

“By virtue of strength or position?” asked Robin, leading forward in curiosity. Sabo shrugged.

“A little of both. Koala here is our Fishman Karate Substitute Instructor, one of the very few humans with strong mastery. She began teaching herself when she was only eleven.” Robin whistled, impressed, but Koala flapped a hand.

“I’m not so big,” she said, clearly pleased despite her words. “Sabo here isn’t just our Chief of Staff, second only to Dragon—he’s the head honcho’s adopted son!” Robin turned her head to Sabo, who was flushing, which made his scar, always the same flat color, stand out on his bright red face.

“It’s not that simple...I’m the adopted brother of Dragon’s son, but he hasn’t actually adopted me. Just rescued me, treated my injuries, and trained me, is all.” Koala scoffed.

“They’re as good as family. Dragon trusts Sabo here _implicitly_.” Robin ignored this, and zeroed in on Sabo’s statements.

“Luffy’s adopted brother? How did that happen?” Sabo was clearly becoming more embarrassed as the investigation continued.

“It’s an old tradition in East Blue, you see...they say anyone who shares a cup of sake becomes brothers. So it was me, Luffy, and our brother Ace that drank together when we were kids.” At the mention of Ace, Sabo’s voice cracked, and Koala patted him on the back with quiet shushing noises. It seemed that Robin’s probing had found a crack.

“Well, no matter! Anytime you want to tell me more about Luffy as a young man, don’t hesitate to come by here. Luffy isn’t one for history, but I would love to learn more about his life, understand?” Sabo nodded, and composed himself. Koala took that moment to stand up and push her chair in.

“Alright! Robin, let’s go work out! You can talk to the other guy in the dojo when you’re finished with me, and then start training with Sabo later.” They all left Robin’s room, where they parted ways: Koala took Robin easily by the hand and began dragging her away, and Sabo took off in another direction, no doubt occupied by the many duties of a Chief of Staff.

They walked right past a weight room where several revolutionaries were working out, and Koala turned back to wink at Robin.

“We don’t have to hang out with the rest of them. I’m an instructor, so I get my own private room for exercise.” Turning down a neglected hallway, Koala removed a key from a hidden pocket in her skirt and opened a door, inside which was a room lined with mirrors and filled with equipment. “Okay, let’s get you started. You mind sweating in those clothes?” Robin smiled wanly, and rolled up her sleeves.

“Not at all, Koala.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Now, let’s start with the fly...”

“I do hope Koala didn’t kill you,” said a wry voice from the corner of the dojo, when a red-faced, limp-haired Robin stumbled into it a few hours later. “She is known to enjoy three hour runs in the heat.”

“I am used to running,” said Robin, gratefully taking a bottle of water from the speaker, a man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties. “I am not used to keeping up with a girl whose thighs are bigger around than my waist.” The older man chuckled and took a sip of water himself.

“You’ll catch up quickly. Everyone in Koala’s class has increased marvelously in muscle mass and strength, even without being trained by her personally. She is a wonderfully strong young woman, and I must say, a clear rebuttal to the stereotype that muscular women are unattractive. I am Roark, your martial arts teacher.”

“Martial arts?” asked Robin. “I know a little of those already.” She had chosen Roark because of his age and his apparent ability, not any specific fighting style—she didn’t know what his was. Roark’s mouth curled into a smile.

“Do you, now? _Soru_!” Robin’s eyes were halfway to widening when he appeared behind her, at an angle. The mirrors helped, but that technique was just too fast. He was sitting crosslegged, holding her head to the floor before she knew what was happening. Apparently sensing her instincts urging her to attack him for real, he quickly released her.

“ _Rokushiki_?” Robin asked, surprised. “I thought the secrets of that art were known only to the Marines.” Roark shrugged.

“They are not so hard to decipher for those outside that organization,” Roark replied. This did not answer Robin’s implicit question, but she decided not to press for now.

“So you will teach me this?” Roark shrugged.

“I will start. We will simply have to see how far you can go.” Robin frowned.

“I was under the impression that _Rokushiki_ required massive amounts of muscular strength, strength I do not yet possess. It will be difficult to teach me, in that case.” Roark shook his head.

“The further you go in learning, the more you will build strength. The foundational technique of the art, though, is _Soru_ , which is about muscle control rather than power. Even the greatest martial artist could not achieve such speed in one kick, but using multiples in short periods, highly controlled contractions, it can be done. Will be done. You will be able to use _Soru_ in a month, or I will resign as an inferior teacher. Am I understood?”

“You are.” Roark gave a smile, then, genuinely pleased, and began the lesson.

“Tired?” Sabo tossed Robin a bottle of water, surmising correctly that all the sweat on the floor had once belonged to her body. The look on her face said “I’m dying”, but he sat down on the floor, grinning and shirtless. “Too bad! Haki doesn’t take physical strength, so I get you after your body’s been pummeled to bits! I take it you already know what Haki is...”

“Yes,” said Robin, “but only in the abstract. I have never used it.”

“That’s fine. But, listen—I can give you a little base in the two colors, hopefully an even spread, but odds are you’re going to end up specializing and you aren’t going to be on the level you might have seen or heard of Haki being used. I’ve been using Haki since I was eleven, and I know there are people out there who could break mine. Two years isn’t going to be enough to make you a master. With that in mind, do you still want to learn?” Robin thought about how powerful an asset she could be to her crew with the power to subdue Logia-types, and of losing so spectacularly to Enel.

“Of course.”

“Then’s let’s get started! We’ll focus on two things, right now: meditation and visualization. Haki’s in the _mind_ , more than anything, and if you want to fight with it you need to have it in yours.” And so Robin took a deep breath, put down her water, and got to work.

“I don’t believe it!” asked Robin, little tears of laughter in the corners of her eyes. “He was such a nice sounding guy! I eavesdropped and everything.” She grew an ear on Sabo’s teacup to illustrate her methods, and by this point in their friendship he was used to such things.

“No, no, Ace was the rudest kid I’d ever met back then,” Sabo countered. “When he saw you in the mornings, he’d go ‘What the fuck are you doing out here?’ even if he liked you. He was ten, Robin.” Robin laughed, much more loudly and openly than she had months prior. The drinks probably weren’t helping, but there was something fun about sake with Sabo and Koala after hard days of training and research.

“You’re leaving out half the story!” Koala insisted, over the laughter. “Remember your manners? You were so rude ‘cause you always hung out with the poor people. Always ‘What the hell do you mean I need to wash my hair’ and ‘Ahh, I took a nice long shit!’” Koala collapsed, slopping a bit of her drink on herself in her fit of good humor.

“But you should’ve heard Luffy,” Sabo said, bringing it back around. “I...” he paused to hiccup. “That kid didn’t know pussy from peaches, and didn’t care either, but one day he walked up to a vendor...and he said, ‘Give me meat, or...” Sabo dissolved into laughter, and took another sip to wet his throat before choking out the words, “‘Give me meat or I’ll fuck you in the ass!’” Robin spat out her drink, slapping her thighs and laughing so loudly that half the castle must have heard.

“Hey, Robin, can you play piano?” Koala asked, standing up and walking across the room. These were Sabo’s rooms, and they were quite finely furnished. She wiped some dust off the grand piano on the far side. “Sabo never plays this thing even though he’s great. Every drinking criminal ought to sing.”

“A woman who travels picks up certain skills,” Robin said, giggling and walking over to the piano. “Let’s see...” Arms sprouted out of her elbows, and with four hands thus positioned, she started playing “Binks’ Sake”, a drinking song twice as old as the Earth and more famous than God.

The three of them had reached a dangerous fever pitch at the end of the song, repeating the iconic “Yohohoho, yohohoho!” louder and louder until more composed people might have stopped for fear of breaking glass or disturbing infants in another country, when Dragon walked in, stared at the three of them, turned around, and left as they grew quiet under his gaze.

As soon as he closed the door, Koala shouted “One more time!”, at which point the door was blasted off its hinges. Standing in the doorway was a furious Dragon, the only clues to his having destroyed the door being his outstretched arm and the look on his face, which could have set children to crying.

“NO!” he roared in a voice like breaking thunder. Robin, Sabo, and Koala simultaneously felt all the alcohol they’d ever had in their lives sprinting to their bladders.

“Sobriety’s a bitch,” muttered Sabo. Koala heaved a large sigh and fell over from the force of it. Robin slumped over and fell asleep on the keys. Sabo looked down at the prone Koala, got down on his knees, curled up around her, and fell asleep. Dragon watched them all for a moment, and then announced to the room,

“First order of business is getting them out of the house.” Then he snatched the comforter from Sabo’s bed, and laid it over the pair on the floor, and hitched up Robin’s jacket over her shoulders before leaving with a silent prayer that none of them would remember his being there.

The next morning, the three of them were summoned together to Dragon’s favorite balcony, by the intelligence room. Most revolutionaries had long since given up on inviting any one of the three anywhere without the others, and Dragon was no exception.

By that point, Robin had been infected by the stylistic flair of Sabo and Koala, and so the three of them, in matching black pants, leather boots, and tailored white shirts, entered the balcony. The only difference between them was that both Sabo and Koala wore longcoats, while Robin wore a leather coat with an open snap collar, giving her a somewhat distinguished appearance in combination with her new hair: when she wore it long, it had gotten stiff with the dust thrown up when she ran outside, so she’d cut it to match Koala’s.

Dragon leaned with his back to the balcony, eyes closed in meditation. The trio waited for his words in respectful silence, all remembering the previous night’s events but having no wish to remind him. They’d gotten over hangover using a remedy of Robin’s, but they weren’t about to push the issue if they didn’t have to.

“There is an island,” he said, “in the West Blue. It is called Pomona, the Breadbasket of the West, and it has been ruled by the majority for hundreds of years. Within the last fifty, the World Government sabotaged the government, placed a Marine base on the island and declared martial law. Since then, the people of Pomona have been oppressed and have fought against Government tyranny to no end. They have reached out to us to aid them.

“I have already deployed revolutionary troops to Pomona. I do not need you three risking your lives; you are capable of more subtlety than that. No, I want you to do different work. Koala, your task is to find the source of the illegal weapons the Pomonian people are importing and cut off that source if possible. Arms dealers profit when mothers cry. Sabo, you are to, while preserving your own safety, prevent the most powerful Pomonian soldiers from falling in battle, as they will need heroes to sustain their movement. And Robin, I will need you to employ your knowledge of subterfuge to assassinate the Marine Vice Admiral holding martial law over Pomona, and your historical background to assist in any other way you can. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!” barked Sabo and Koala. Dragon looked expectantly at Robin, who looked back with a cool expression.

“I have my own companions,” Robin said, by way of explanation. “Call this a collaboration.” Dragon inclined his head as if to acknowledge her appellation as valid.

“Fair enough. You’re dismissed.” The trio swept off the balcony, closing the door behind them, and walked softly through the intelligence room so as not to disturb anyone.

As soon as they emerged into the corridor, Robin turned the opposite way as Sabo and Koala, who turned in surprise.

“What’s up?” asked Sabo, hands in his pockets.

“I’m going to the library. I like to go researching alone, so I’ll brief you both on Pomona when we’re en route. It’ll stay fresh in your minds that way.” Robin crossed her arms, and a clone of her appeared by Sabo and Koala. “I’ll pack my own things, so go ahead and get prepared. See you at the harbor tomorrow morning!”

“The conflict’s probably over,” grumbled Sabo, on the fifth week of their journey. “Nothing like showing up for a fight two weeks late.” Koala socked him none too gently on the shoulder.

“You know Dragon only sends high-ranking agents when a situation is going to hit fever pitch when they arrive,” she chided. “Especially since it’s usually you deploying people, not him.” Sabo sniffed, and Koala did something Robin would have classified as a headbutt had she not learned herself that Koala’s breed of annoyed affection involved kisses at Mach 3. Sabo buried his head in Koala’s shoulder and groaned, bored out of his mind.

The ship they’d set sail in, the _Cathedral Carcass_ , was anything but fine. On the contrary, it was so small that Robin had learned things she didn’t particularly care to about the nature of Sabo and Koala’s relationship. They still did calisthenics daily, but after Koala nearly capsized the boat with a particularly spirited sumo squat, things had been toned down a lot. With nothing to do, they had taken to telling stories to pass the time.

“It’s your turn, Robin,” Sabo muttered, half muffled by Koala’s top. “And you have more stories than either of us, anyway.”

“Yeah!” Koala piped up. “And besides, I bet you narrowly escaped death with your feminine wiles all the time! You’ve lived a pretty interesting life.” Robin’s smile went a little slack at Koala’s words, but she shut her book on Pomonian dining customs and got herself situated, searching for a story as she did so.

“Well. A story about feminine wiles, then.” Sabo and Koala shushed each other into silence, until the only sounds were waves, Robin’s voice, and the occasional seagull. “I was nineteen, just having entered Paradise. I entered the Grand Line from Mariejois, of course, and as I was terrified of meeting the sort of pirates who frequented the New World, I made right for Sabaody Archipelago.

“Well, as I’m sure you’re both aware, that place has something of a criminal element about it, and as a place very much steeped in vice, all manner of illicit businesses thrive there: drug running, arms dealing, the slave trade...well, I had little interest in any of those things, although I’d been involved in at least one of them before. I ended up being scooped up by a “gentleman’s club” that doubled as a brothel. I’d like to say it was a high-class establishment, but it wasn’t.

“I was a dancer. The dancing was mostly advertising: if you were liked enough on the floor, the folk with money got to take you upstairs and have a good time. Thing was, I’m a visual learner. I could dance within a few days, and I got good, fast. I was one of the best dancers, but at that point I had no sexual experience. I was not ready to be a prostitute; none of the women there were, really, but we were all desperate and had nowhere else to go. Letting pirates use us like sacks of meat with perfume on was all most of us knew.

“The first few nights were the worst. I...lost control, hurt a customer. After that, they started putting a Seastone band on me whenever I got taken upstairs, so I’d be too weak to do anything but sit there. But I had a plan. I wouldn’t hurt any more customers at the site. I replaced the Seastone with regular diamond—stolen, of course—and acted weak. The customer would do their thing, and usually either fall asleep or go home. But they wouldn’t make it. All their friends would see them leave, and assume they were fine, but I watched them go down the street from the window and used my ability to trap them in an alley if they weren’t too strong.

“Then I’d take my knife, and go for a stroll in the night.” Robin’s eyes, even in the bright sunlight, reflected a dark place across the ocean. Her mouth broke into a wide smile. “I killed them. Every single one. They never suspected a thing from the night’s pussy. All I did was put on makeup, dyed my hair, took the bounties in for collection, and let the Marines take the credit. I didn’t care, as long as I got my money. Soon, I had enough to get off Sabaody.

“But the other girls weren’t brilliant, they weren’t ability users, and they weren’t able to kill pirates for money. So I knew I couldn’t just leave them there. Call it a little goodness left over from Ohara, but I was grateful for them. We were all trying to survive, and more than once they did me favors. I wanted to do them one. So, the night before I left, I walked up to the boss, this big bastard, and told him I was grateful for all he’d done for me. Wanted to show my appreciation. I laid it on pretty thick, you know: a man’s ego is fragile, but it grows faster than a pubescent Sea King, and by the time I was dancing in his lap he believed every word I said.

“You wanted to hear about feminine wiles, Koala? I put my soft, small, feminine hands on his neck and broke it like a twig. Went under his bed, found his chest, and gave every woman in the house a million beli and advice: ‘Get the hell out of here.’. Next morning, we cleared the place out and burned it to the ground. I sailed out of Sabaody, hopefully never to return. But return I did. There’s a slave market where the brothel used to stand. So things never change, I suppose.” A sprouted hand offered Robin back her book, but before she could take it and resume reading she’d been fly-tackle-hugged by Koala.

Robin’s fingers went tight and hard. Hands gripped Koala’s shoulders and thighs, flipped her over onto the deck. Robin’s submission hold grew increasingly painful until she finally relaxed, murmuring apologies.

“No, I’m sorry,” Koala said, more muted. “I should’ve known you weren’t ready to be touched after reliving that.”

“Land ho,” said Sabo. Robin and Koala both jumped: he’d been mostly silent during the story. “And it looks like the situation’s been developing.” Robin and Koala both stood to see what he was talking about. It quickly became obvious. A large number of Marine battleships was patrolling the area around the island, stopping the small number of incoming and outgoing vessels.

“We need a cover,” said Koala.

“Prostitution,” said Robin. Sabo and Koala both stared at her, but she just shrugged. “Well, I’ve been remembering it, and besides, think about it. Young, wealthy-ish looking man with two beautiful girls on a ship so small it has to be hiding something, but no illicit cargo onboard? They’ll assume it anyway.”

“Prostitution is illegal,” Sabo said evenly.

“Marines don’t care what’s illegal,” Koala countered, “because they don’t have to face the consequences of breaking the law. Robin’s right. Let’s just go with it.” Sabo sighed.

“Fine. Hello, the battleship!” This last bit was shouted to the nearest battleship was they approached the blockade. Robin steered the boat to shouting distance without getting near the battleship’s wake.

“Hello the _Cathedral Carcass_! Fine name.” Snickering from the Marines on deck, all of whom had rifles aimed at the boat. Clearly the Marine in charge of this island was playing no games. Robin and Koala both feigned horror and fear. “What’s your cargo in a little tub like that?”

“You’re looking at it,” Sabo said, dropping a wink so large that even from the battleship’s height his meaning was clear. The Marine who’d addressed them seemed to think on this.

“Sergeant! Place the Cathedral Carcass on the watch list.”

“Aye, sir!” The Marine turned back to the revolutionaries.

“If my men say one of those lovelies hasn’t stopped by the base to show them a good night when you make to depart this island, things will go badly for you. Am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Then proceed.” The _Carcass_ moved further into harbor, squeezing in between larger ships and dropping anchor. After reacquiring their land legs, the trio hired a stevedore to carry their luggage to one of the many wagons taking travelers into the large city nearby, the head of of Pomona.

As the countryside passed by, Robin leaned back in the seat to talk to Sabo and Koala, their voices masked by the sound of wheels on the cobbled roads.

“Look to the sides.” Sabo and Koala obeyed, and saw what they had expected: acres upon acres of farmland; trees heavy with apples, persimmons, pears, and olives; grain growing so thick that one stroke of the scythe could feed a family of four; cotton thick on the ground. “Notice something unusual?” Koala’s eyes, large under any circumstances, widened even further.

“It’s harvest season! Why are no workers in the field?” Robin nodded.

“Sabo, there are sure to be protests, so you ought to find those. Koala, while you’re on the hunt, try to figure out what’s going on with the crop situation here. That may help us all in assisting the people of Pomona.”

With hearts full of foreboding, they entered the city.

Sabo was the first to disembark, jumping quite suddenly off of the wagon to pursue a crowd of people that ran in front of the wagon, talking loudly amongst themselves and carrying large clubs or other improvised weapons. He meshed easily with the crowd and pushed his way to the front.

“Where are you lot headed?” he asked, not even trying to fake an accent. He’d learned over the course of his work that a fake accent was even more conspicuous than an unusual one.

“Angel Square,” said one of the runners, as if it was obvious. “Liki’s staging another protest there, and they say the Vice Admiral’s sending in troops to arrest her.”

“And you?”

“Going to help her, of course!” The runners all cheered this, and Sabo fell silent, gathering his thoughts. Then he turned a corner, and found himself in Angel Square.

Angel Square seemed circular, but was actually an octagon formed by surrounding buildings and wide, cobbled streets. Bounded by these was a huge, grassy field, in the center of which stood a large statue on a granite pedestal. The statue depicted an angel with spread wings of a stark black color, standing tall into the sky.

“There’s Liki!” said one of the runners, and Sabo followed their gazes to a young woman with light blue hair, sitting cross-legged on the ground. She was, at first glance, a shade younger than him, with the typical Pomonian farmer’s tan and a liberal dusting of freckles as well as the strong muscles of someone used to field work. Liki was surrounded by other people holding signs and weapons, mostly young, and was smoking a cigarette. Sabo spied a knife strapped to her belt.

“Hey, Liki!” said the runner who’d addressed Sabo. “We’ve got this suspicious character asking all kinds of questions.” Sabo was pushed and prodded to stand in front of her, and Liki stood to her full height. She was easily three inches taller than Sabo, and looked down her nose at him.

“Here I am,” she said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “Satisfied? In a few minutes, Marines are gonna show their ugly mugs, so unless you wanna fight you better clear out.” Sabo grinned up at her.

“I’ll fight. I’m...friendly, let’s say.” Liki nodded.

“Good. Then square up, and let’s get to it!”

Koala vaulted off of their wagon and onto a different one. Most wagons were open, but this one was covered, a likely sign of suspicious cargo, and following her gut she jumped on board with the bored-looking driver’s client, who reached for a knife as soon as she landed. Koala spat on her hand and slammed it into the man’s face: there was a sound like snapping wood, and he passed out, jaw broken and face already beginning to swell.

“Not as good as water,” Koala muttered, “but it’ll do in a pinch. Keep driving where you were, driver, you’ll get paid just the same.” She ducked back into the covered section, but it was too dark inside to see the cargo, so she just lurked there until she felt the wagon come to a slow, controlled stop. The driver came back into the covered area.

“Unloading time,” he said. “Pay up.” True to her word, Koala paid him, then snuck out of the front of the covered area just as people entered through the back to remove the crates. Since the people checking the wagon were busy with the cargo, she had a moment to get her bearings before they came around and saw her.

The wagon was parked in front of a warehouse, clearly used but well guarded. This checkpoint was the only way to get in. With that in mind, she ran inside, paying no mind to wagon or cargo. Wandering through large stacks of unmarked crates looking for identification marks, Koala eventually stumbled on a well-lit area of the warehouse and produced a small Transponder Snail, ideal for taking pictures.

She approached an open crate in the center of the well lit area. It was filled with weapons of war: rifles on the bottom, bayonets in the center, and explosive charges on top. The lid of the crate was off to the side: printed on the side of the lid that would normally face inside the crate was a Jolly Roger familiar to anyone who knew anything about the world: a smiley with a wide smile and a line slashed across it.

“Doflamingo...!” Koala snapped several photos, both of the crate and the symbol, and placed her Transponder Snail back inside her coat. A sharp click sounded, and she sighed almost imperceptibly.

“Hands up. You are now a captive of the Donquixote Pirates.” Rough looking characters emerged from the shadows, some with guns and others with short rods or swords. Koala raised her hands, and slowly began to smile.

“Is it just me,” she asked, “or is the air in here a little damp?”

Robin dropped off their luggage at an inn and went out after changing into a plain white dress, simple but classic. Unlike Sabo and Koala, she preferred to get a taste of destinations rather than charge right into them, so she went to the first clean bar she saw and ordered something light.

She reasoned that only two types of people approached beautiful women drinking alone: men who expected sex in return for poor company, and people who genuinely wanted her to feel welcome. She snubbed several of the former before one of the latter, an oddly familiar man a little above her age, sat down and asked her how she’d liked Pomona thus far.

“It’s alright,” Robin replied, sipping her drink. “The area seems tense, though.” The man laughed, but not from humor.

“That’s one way of putting it!” He shook his head. “Ever since Vice Admiral Sherman took over a few years ago, the island’s been going to the dogs. The Government was content to leave us in peace, but the Celestial Dragons apparently favor our produce now, and it shows. His executive orders are insane. All soldiers are free to loot the fields at will, he is not required to pay for anything he wants on this island, and he can pronounce a sentence of death on any resident immediately. He even has the power...well, don’t quote me, but they say he was granted authority to invoke the Buster Call.” Robin’s stomach turned to ice.

“Didn’t they do that to another island in this sea, years ago?” she asked, struggling to remain light and casual.

“Yeah, old Ohara. The papers said they were trying to destroy the world over there, but honestly...now that I’m living under the Government, I’m doubting it. We’ll never know, though, right?” He took a long sip of his beer. “Anyway, people have been resisting here. My daughter’s one of the rebels.”

“Oh? You must be worried,” Robin prompted, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He nodded.

“My Liki’s tough, but fathers worry. She used to skip out of work on the farm when she wasn’t needed and come to the city to play with her hoodlum friends...and now she’s fighting the Marines. Who’d have ever thought the little punk would have a moral grounding?”

“Moral, to fight the Marines?” Robin asked, shading her eyes. The man looked at her a little nervously.

“Well...my family has something of a history with them. But I’m not sure if I should tell...” Robin shook her head.

“I assure you, I’m the last person who’d rat you out.” He took her at her word.

“Well, I had a younger brother, and the Government took him away when he was born for reasons they never told us. My parents never forgave them, and they raised me the same. Now little Liki Lucci’s out there fighting...I have to wonder if it’s destiny.” Robin managed not to choke on her drink, but just barely. _No wonder he was familiar_ , she thought.

“It’s been lovely chatting,” she said, “but I’ve got business elsewhere in the city. Lovely meeting you, Mr. Lucci.” She shook his hand and got out of there as quickly as her legs could carry her.

Sabo had assisted revolutionary efforts in several countries, either personally or through his work as Chief of Staff, but he had never seen a local like Liki.

It wasn’t her passion, or the way she commanded her fellow rebels with the easy force of a lifelong punk; she was tough, for sure, but Sabo had very few women in his life who weren’t. It was the way she viewed the Marines was told through the way she fought them. She carried a knife, but she always went for nonlethal areas wherever she hit them. Her farmer’s muscles never went to gouge, but always knocked out by punch or chokehold. It was abundantly clear that Liki was a deeply empathetic person who didn’t think anyone deserved to die for the side on which they stood.

For himself, he fought behind her and with considerably less mercy. It was obvious that these troops had been ordered to kill Liki at any cost, because he had intercepted five swords meant for her in the first few minutes of the skirmish, smashing them in his fingers. He didn’t brag, not wanting to draw excessive attention to his abilities, but he knew a lot of the Marines he was fighting would never fight again, bones turned to splinters in the grip of his talons.

“How you doing, foreigner?” Liki asked, puffing out smoke. She had a cut oozing blood over her left eye, but it was nothing serious, and her mood seemed good. Sabo grinned back at her.

“Not bad, Pomonian.” Sabo paused. “Heard anything about the Vice Admiral?” She nodded, grim.

“He’s coming here in a few hours, after giving a little party for his personal guard. Casualties’ll be high. I’m worried for our guys. Of course, he doesn’t trust us Pomonians enough to let us near his men to sabotage ‘em.” She spat, and grabbed a Marine who lunged in to attack her. She pressed him to the ground with nothing but raw strength, and kicked him in the head, putting him out instantly. “You got an idea? I see a look on your face.”

“Hey, what’s up with that angel?” Sabo asked. Liki pointed to the statue in the center of the square.

“That one? She’s our patron goddess. They say she appears in times of strife to preserve Pomona from our enemies.”

Sabo thought back to their entrance into Pomona, and of the available resources, and began to smile.

Koala wiped her hands off on the shirt of a fallen guard.

“You just _had_ to use the b-word, didn’t you?” she said, cheerful as always. “I was just gonna knock you out, but now it’s fuckin’ personal.” Standing up straight, Koala drew back and spat on the man. “Now we’re even. Asshole.” She grabbed one of the guns from the open crate and made her way outside, back into the streets. Now she knew the source of the illegal weapons, but still nothing about the crops. Spotting a elderly man in overalls and immediately typing him as a farmer, she walked over and took a small recording Snail out of her coat.

“Hello, I’m a representative of the Baltigo Times, would you care to do an interview?” Koala was a skilled ad-libber, and was putting her skills to work. The man looked flattered, and agreed, so they ducked into a nearby café.

“What would you like to know?” he asked, looking at her earnestly. Koala turned on the recording Snail.

“I noticed on my way in that the fields were empty. Do you know why that is?” The man giggled to himself.

“You bet I do! I’m Hank, and I’m the man who started the whole thing!” Koala nodded, and deliberately widened her eyes.

“What whole thing, sir? I’m afraid I don’t catch your meaning.” Hank gave her a sly look.

“Sherman reckons he can up and take what’s ours without paying. Well, he can’t take what we don’t have. We’re putting off the harvest ‘til he’s gone and done for. See, them Celestial Dragons don’t much like not gettin’ what they want, I hear, and when they figure Sherman’s the problem, out he goes!” _Oh my God_ , thought Koala, even as she nodded and smiled. _Sherman’s going to report that they’re in rebellion, they’re going to get massacred, and this old man is going to die wondering what he did wrong._

“Ingenious!” she said aloud. “Very subversive.” She continued to praise him and ask more minor questions before concluding the interview and slipping him a few beli for his trouble. Then she downed her coffee, left the café, and made a call.

Robin put down her Transponder Snail. It seemed that everything was coming together beautifully, and all she had to do was something she wanted to in the first place. She’d made herself up and powdered her hair to make herself less recognizable, and she was confident that her plan would work.

“Marine architecture is hideous,” she murmured, looking up at the tiger-striped cylindroid that towered over the city. She didn’t realize she’d said so out loud until someone across the street said “Hear, hear!” and she scurried away to avoid being noticed further.

She was making her way to the base, to do a very pleasant job: play the prostitute for a large number of Marines, and then surprise them all with her feminine wiles. Smiling at the thought, Robin knocked on the gate, where a dozing Marine sharply sat up.

“What business do you have at the base?” he asked, peering down her dress. Robin leaned over to make his job a little easier.

“The oldest profession. I’m from the _Cathedral Carcass_. Check the watchlist.” A few seconds later, Robin was waved inside. The yard was quiet and empty as night slowly fell on Pomona, all the soldiers long since gone inside, but as soon as she stepped in the front door she was blasted with sound.

She pegged it immediately as an officers’ party: none in attendance were dressed in the basic uniform, which lined up well with Robin’s intel. All the enlisted men had been deployed to Angel Square. While they risked their lives, the officers were having shrimp cocktails and wine, living it up on base.

As soon as Robin walked in, the Vice Admiral was obvious: not only was he extremely tall, even to a woman who’d broken six feet in her teen years, but he commanded attention throughout the room.

“Border patrol got us a whore!” said one of the officers, and Vice Admiral Sherman smirked as he parted the crowd on his way toward Robin.

“Rank has its privileges,” he said in a low voice, then grabbed Robin’s arm and began steering her away, to the simultaneous groans and cheers of his subordinates. When they made it to his room, he shoved Robin inside, turned back to grin at his men, and then slammed the door.

Robin knew men like him like the back of her hand. He laid down on the bed and removed his shirt, and she jumped into his lap, squirming and gasping like a little girl. As soon as he closed his eyes, arms sprang out of his bedspread, holding him down. Two more emerged from his pillow, covering his mouth. He immediately cried out and began to struggle, but Robin’s training had not been in vain; he could not break her hold even slightly. Robin, with a wicked grin on her face, began absentmindedly making loud moaning noises to match his grunts of exertion as she searched the room for something, making a convincing audio show for the men outside the door.

Finally she found what she was looking for: a flintlock pistol. Swinging herself back up into his lap, she raised a hand, coated it in Armament Haki, and folded down all fingers save two before pressing it to his mouth. She leaned over so her hair draped over his face and whispered,

“Give the scholars of Ohara my regards.” Feeling his body tense up under her, Robin shot her fingers forward in a perfectly executed _Shigan_ , breaking his teeth and piercing up into his medulla. Vice Admiral Sherman died instantly, and Robin placed the pistol between his fingers before walking to the door and opening it, smiling sweetly.

“Where’s the boss?” asked one officer, frowning.

“It seems I put him right to sleep,” Robin said. Shrugging, the officer stepped forward from the rest of the crowd.

“Whatever. My turn, next.” Robin raised an arm to stop him, and more arms sprouted from her elbow, forming a somewhat circular shape on the end of her upper arm. Robin took a deep breath.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. _Tekkai_!” The arm-shield stiffened, then turned black from Haki. “I don’t need to be with you alone to knock you out with my body.” Robin seemed to vanish, but shortly crashed into the crowd of officers, the combination of _Soru_ and _Tekkai_ making a flawless shield bash.

A soldier pulled out a small reserve pistol and fired, but the shot went wild, as another Robin behind him sprouted several arms and pierced his chest using _Shigan_ with all of them. When it transpired that their opponent had knowledge of Haki and _Rokushiki_ as well as a Devil Fruit power, most of the remaining officers attempted to flee, but Robin, true to her speciality as an assassin, killed them all, from the weakest up.

The border guard looked up and squinted at Robin.

“Have a good night, ma’am,” he said, and Robin returned the wish. He was left staring at her back, wondering when her white dress had become a red one.

“Oh my god,” said Liki, at Sabo’s side. “Look! Up there! It’s _her_!” Sabo looked up to the tall building to which Liki was pointing. Standing on the roof was a figure, clearly female, with widespread black wings, standing tall against the moon behind her. “It’s the Angel!” The cry was taken up by the other rebels across the field. “Wait, Sabo?”

But the revolutionary was already gone. The signal had been received.

Robin dived down off of the building, thanking all the gods in heaven that she’d practiced the wing technique on Baltigo often, extending the length of time she could fly. As she swooped down, she sprouted black hands on Marine soldiers, often knocking them out with a punch thrown at _Shigan_ speeds or tripping them up to be trampled by excited rebels who mistook her hands for her wings’ black “feathers”.

She lowered herself to the point where she was just above the crowd, spotted Liki’s blue hair, and slowed down just enough to touch her head. The rebels around her shouted in a frenzy, crying out that Liki Lucci was angel-touched, and Robin gave a mighty beat of her wings, gained altitude, circled once more, and flew towards the coast.

At the harbor, Sabo jumped into the boat with the waiting Koala. Both scanned the skies in search of Robin. Their mission complete, they’d have to make a speedy exit from Pomona. Half the strength of the Revolutionary Army was speed, and they needed to be out of there before the Government had any idea what was going on.

Robin ran down the harbor: three of her, in fact, carrying all their luggage. Two of these were inexplicably wearing sarongs, but all three tossed their loads onto the boat and jumped on. Two disappeared, leaving one real Robin, still in a gorgeous flower-print sarong, to insist that Koala get the boat moving.

“Roger!” said Koala, as Sabo cut the _Cathedral Carcass_ ’ ties to the pier. She dipped her hands in the water, got a grip on it in a way that only those knowledgeable of Fishman Jujitsu could, and pushed with all her strength. By repeating this motion, the boat began to pick up speed that no others could on the windless night. Nonetheless, as they approached the blockade, Robin began to worry.

“They aren’t going to let us through!” she shouted over the sound of Koala’s propulsion as the battleships turned their guns on the tiny boat. “Sabo!” He understood immediately, stretching out his fingers as she crossed her arms. Hundreds of Haki-reinforced legs stacked up on a battleship a little ways away from those obstructing their path, and Sabo leaped out of the boat with all his strength, pushing the prow underwater for a brief second.

“Stomp!” said Robin, and the massive black legs formed by her power smashed one of the battleships to timber, even as Sabo’s Dragon Breath Strike destroyed the other. Koala pushed the tiny _Cathedral Carcass_ through the hail of falling wood and steel while Sabo landed back on the ship, exchanging a loud high-five with Robin.

“Alright,” said Sabo, breathing a little hard. “Let’s go home.”

“Welcome back, Robin.” Roark gave her a massive bear hug, an uncharacteristically fond action. “I heard you helped Pomona free itself from the World Government’s oppression.” When he drew back, Robin saw a small tattoo on his shoulder, typically obscured by his shirt sleeve. It was a simple crossed spear, but had once covered up another cross-shaped mark.

“You’re an ex-Marine, aren’t you?” Roark’s smile faltered.

“Well. Yes, I am. I guess the tattoo gave it away, huh?” Robin shrugged.

“That, and the _Rokushiki_ mastery. Which generations of Cipher Police did you train?”

“Just the ninth. Rob Lucci was the best student I ever had.” Robin thought back to the strong young woman she’d touched on Pomona, who even Sabo had admired, and wondered where her father’s missing brother was now.

“Thank you for letting me know,” said Robin. “I think I might be done here.”

“I think,” replied Roark, “that you might be right.”

“So what sort of adventures did you have while we were separated?” asked Nami, Momonosuke long since kicked out of their room. Robin noticed Nami carefully watching her abs as she shifted around to find a comfortable position to talk in. She’d need her rest for the adventures they were sure to have on Dressrosa.

“Well...it’s a fairly long story, you know. You’ll probably fall asleep before I finish it.” But Nami puffed up her cheeks and insisted,  so Robin began to talk about her travels.

“...so of course, the sarong accented my hips perfectly and I treated myself...ah.” Robin looked over and saw Nami snoring gently into her pillow, framed almost angelically by her hair. Robin swept the younger woman’s bangs out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Miss Navigator.” Then she put out the lamp with a flick of an extra hand and went to sleep.

 


End file.
